An exasperated sigh escapes my lips as I side-step a broken piece of linoleum on the floor. Making my way to the entrance, I feel Nate’s eyes on me every step of the way.
I almost look up at him and roll my eyes, their overprotective nature a little out of control. The fact that Red is sitting at the bar, facing me but trying to keep Nate’s attention, is what stops me.
“Hey, Nate,” I say as I get close. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
As expected, he turns away from her and rounds the corner to me. “Ya leaving, Priss?”
“Yeah, Dom kicked me out.”
“Like you didn’t know that was coming,” he laughs, then lowers his voice. “I didn’t know Hannah was with him or I would’ve warned you.”
“Would’ve been nice.”
He grins. “Like you’d think he’s up to something with her,” he scoffs. “Dom is a dumb motherfucker sometimes, but even he’s not dumb enough to risk you for that.”
“Oh, Nate. You have such a way with words,” I joke, laying a hand on my heart. “But, really, thanks for saying that. It makes me feel a little better.”
“Better about what?”
I shrug, not really wanting to get into it with Red sitting a few feet away. “Are you staying at Dom’s tonight?”
“Yeah. But I don’t want to cause you guys any problems.”
“You won’t,” I say. “I have a house, you know.”
“I heard. A nice one if the word on the street is right.”
“And because it’s mine, I can go there anytime I want,” I point out. “So, again, you being at Dom’s won’t cause any problems in my life. Besides, Ryder will give me someone to play with while you guys watch sports.”
A thought crosses my mind and I try to shake it off, but it comes back full-force. I picture Ryder’s little face capped with the same dark hair as his father and uncle, and I wonder how much of his life resembles theirs. And how different it is from mine.
A spark begins to take root in my stomach and the feeling of being absolutely right floods me. Lifting up on my tiptoes, I place my lips right against Nate’s ear. “I want to do something.”
“I won’t tell Dom. I swear,” he cracks, getting a swat from me. This makes him laugh harder. “Kidding.”
“Sure you are,” I giggle, dropping back to my feet. “But, seriously. I want to do something for you.”
“What are we talking here? Homemade lasagna?”
Forcing a swallow, I look him straight in the eye. I give myself a moment to reconsider, to go with the lasagna, but that option falters to the wayside. Bracing myself for his reaction, I take a deep breath. “Nate, let me loan you the ten grand.”
All humor erases from his face. “What?” he blanches.
“I about killed myself in a hole back there,” I say hurriedly, trying to make him agree before we can establish a solid argument. “Someone could trip and sue you for more than that before the loan goes through.”
“Priss, no,” he says, waving his hands in front of him. “I can’t do that. No way.”
“And why not? I can have it wired to you tomorrow and you can start your renovations or whatever it is. Plus,” I say, cutting off his rebuttal, “you’ll get the money to pay me back in sixty days.”
“No.”
“Nate,” I sigh. “Please let me do this for you.”
His eyes fill with an unnamed emotion that makes my heart melt. “Is this you trying to get me out of Dom’s house sooner? Because I already terminated my lease. I’m stuck there for the time being.”
“Shut up,” I laugh. “This is to help you get on your feet.”
“I … I just … Wow, Camilla. I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes.”
“Dominic would kill me.”
“You said you wouldn’t tell him,” I tease. “Besides, why would he care? It’s not like it’s a gift. You’re paying me back in two months. It’s not a big deal.”
“You’ve rendered me speechless.”
“Good. I like you Hughes boys better when you don’t talk,” I wink. “Text me your bank account number when you get off, before you get her off,” I say, rolling my eyes and jabbing a thumb towards Red at the bar, “and I’ll do it tomorrow. Just pay me back when you get the loan. Easy peasy.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, still looking unconvinced. “That’s a lot of money.”
“I wouldn’t loan it to just anyone. I’m not dumb.”
There is no response.
“Look,” I continue, “I may dislike business but I’ve heard enough conversations to know risk versus reward. This is a no-brainer in that sense. Plus, it appeals to the ‘do-gooder’ in me, as your brother calls it. Just say yes so I can get out of here before Dom sees me or Red glares me to death.”
The features on his face smooth, his eyes beginning to twinkle. “I can’t believe you offered me this. I owe you one.”
“No. You owe me ten thousand,” I laugh, swinging my purse at my side. “Now I’m going to get some food and meet up with Dom.”
I get to the door before I hear Nate’s voice again. “Priss?”
“Yeah?” I say, looking over my shoulder.
“Thank you.”
My cheeks hurt from smiling, my chest filled with the sensation of doing something good. Of, like my mother says, making a difference in someone’s life. “You are very welcome.”
Seven
Camilla
Dom’s car, a black-on-black Camaro, is sitting in the parking lot when I pull up to his apartment. The paint, although matte in finish, shines in the early evening sunlight.
I’ve never been a big fan of cars, but this one is almost as sexy as Dominic. It sits low to the ground and sounds ferocious when he presses the gas and lets it roar down the road. Sometimes we take long, pointless drives out of the city, and I settle back in the leather seats and enjoy being wrapped up in so much power with him at the wheel.
It’s also why I love being in his arms.
No one has ever made me feel so safe and so reckless at the same time. From our first date, not once have I considered he’d ever make a decision that wasn’t for my benefit. As much as I hate being chastised for showing up at the bar or the gym, I know it’s because of some fear that something will happen to me. Even though I feel like a child sometimes when he calls me before I can text him that I made it home, I know it’s because he’s concerned.
This is the same man that will have me in the passenger seat as we hit a hundred and ten miles per hour on the interstate or that has me naked on the hood of his car on a bluff that overlooks the sea.
He’s wild and uncivilized, but disciplined and thoughtful too. Being with him is like the real world doesn’t exist. It’s like there aren’t societal rules with stupid expectations. With Dom, I can do what I want. I can be whatever I want. It’s a crazy, exciting life.
As I climb out of my Audi, my laughter dances through the breeze. Never in a million years did I think I’d be walking up a broken sidewalk to an apartment on this side of town to see a man. Not only am I walking up it tonight, my feet can’t get me there quick enough.
After letting myself in the building and taking the stairs to the third floor, I try not to breathe in the smoke at the top of the stairwell. Making my way down the hall, grumbling that there’s no elevator, I balance the takeout bag and my purse in one hand and knock with the other.
It flies open before I even pull my hand away.
He’s standing in the doorway, one hand on the sweatpants that hang just below his chiseled hips and the other leans on the frame. The tattoos that mark his flesh are vivid against his bare skin, making the blues of his eyes shine.
He flashes a lopsided smile my way. “Took you long enough.”
“I don’t drive like a bat out of hell,” I laugh, stepping past him. “Did you shower already?”
“Yeah. I smelled like gym floors.”
“As long as you don’t smell like gym whores,” I sa
y, setting the bags on the table in the kitchen.
His laugh is contagious and I feel myself smiling. A set of arms cage me in from behind, grasping the table on both sides of me. My skin breaks out in a shiver as his lips find the sensitive spot behind my ear.
His face buries in the crook of my neck and he takes a long, leisurely breath. “You smell so good.”
“Keep doing that,” I say, relaxing my head onto his chest.
“What?”
“Talking with your mouth against me.”
“You like this?” he asks all breathily so that each word whispers across my skin.
My eyes fall closed as I relish in this moment of nothing but him. “No, I love this.”
“Can I tell you a little secret?”
“As long as you keep talking, you can tell me whatever you want.”
He chuckles, dotting kisses up and down my neck. “I love this too, feeling your body give up the fight of the day and let me take over.” He turns me in his arms so I’m facing him. “I love that you trust me enough to let your shoulders sink out of that perfect posture you walk around with.”
As he reaches up and undoes the elastic in my hair, I watch his features soften. He moves carefully, unwrapping the tie from the twisted mess in my locks, careful not to pull.
“There,” he says, cupping the back of my head through my long tresses, “that’s better.”
“You don’t like my hair up?”
“Not like you had it. You look to lunching-y,” he says, wrinkling his nose.
“Lunching-y?”
“Yes,” he grins.
“You are too cute.”
“You are too fucking sexy.”
Reaching up, I swipe the pad of my thumb over the cut above his eye. He flinches, but just for a second. “What happened?”
“Bond’s right hand.”
“I hate him.”
“So do I,” he snickers.
“Let’s get some ice for it.”
He leans in, his brows tugging together. “Let’s not.” His eyes hood as he takes me in, his tongue darting out and wetting his lips. My knees weaken, my body humming with delight at his reaction.
“I want to take care of you,” I whisper, although that’s really on the backburner now. “Let me baby you.”
Instead, he lifts me up and places me on the table. My stomach clenches as he positions himself between my thighs, my sundress curling at my waist. I ring my legs around him, pulling him so close that the soft cotton of his sweatpants rubs against my opening.
He looks down. “You aren’t wearing panties.”
“Nope.”
When his gaze flips back to my eyes, it’s so heated I think he’s going to combust. “You’ve run around all day like this?”
“Maybe.”
“Damn it, Camilla,” he growls, placing his hand in between us. A finger slides through my slit easily, dragging the wetness around my opening. “Tell me you’re fucking with me.”
“What’s it matter?” I moan, letting my arms dangle off his sculpted shoulders.
“Cam.”
“Fine. I took them off in my car and shoved them in my purse when I got here. I wanted to be ready for you.”
He sinks a finger, then two, inside. A gush of breath escapes my throat, a soft moan on its tail. Pulling them out, he thrusts them inside me again. “You’re ready for me. There’s no doubt about that.”
“Dom?”
“What, beautiful?”
“I need you inside me.”
Smirking, he works his fingers in a torturously slow circle. “Now?”
“Yes, fucking now,” I pant.
My eyes are closed as I place my hands behind me and lean back, giving him as much access as he wants. His thumb sits heavily on my clit, putting gentle pressure as he works me into a heated frenzy.
“Dominic,” I groan before yelping as he slides his long, hard cock into me. “God!”
“Is that what you want? Now?” he laughs, slowly withdrawing before pushing hard inside once more, until he hits the wall of my vagina. “You want this now?”
“Yes,” I hiss. “No, actually I don’t. I don’t want this. I want you to fuck me.”
He growls, the intensity of his actions building steadily. “Say it again.”
“Fuck me, Dom.”
My hair swishes against the table, my legs burning with an orgasm that’s been waiting to release since I saw him at the bar. His hands are all over me—cupping my breasts, holding my shoulders, squeezing my hips—as he finds the rhythm we both love.
When I open my eyes, he’s watching me with an expression I can’t quite put my finger on. He smiles.
“Harder, please,” I say, the words bouncing with every thrust.
His smile widens, grows cocky, and pushes me that much closer to the edge. “Your pussy can’t handle my cock. Feel that? That’s me hitting the back.” He slams into me, his girth stretching me so far it almost burns. “You’re. So. Damn. Tight.”
With each thrust, I’m brought to the brink of undoing. Every grin, every whiff of his cologne brings me closer and closer to the climax I crave.
I lean forward and grip his arms, his biceps sweaty and flexing under my touch. He growls, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swirls his hips as he’s deep inside me.
“Either we stop or I’m gonna be done,” he says through gritted teeth. “You have about two seconds to decide.”
“Come,” I say, letting my legs fall to the sides and drop onto the puddled tabletop. “Ah,” I shout as he drives mind-numbingly hard into my pussy. “Dominic!”
“Cam,” he mutters, powering into me one final, heavy time as I topple around him.
My nails bite into his skin, his back flexing against my hands as I yell out his name. My thighs tremble as I run my hands to his ass, feeling it tense as he spills himself inside me.
Every muscle in my body contracts, quivering from the orgasm that catapults its way through every piece of my being. I can’t focus on anything but the intense sensation that starts in my belly and soars through my veins.
I sag as I come back to my senses, totally spent from both the physical and emotional rush. He guides my back to the table and I lie on the spot where we eat breakfast, my dress shoved to my chest.
He braces himself on the table, panting as hard as I am. “That was worth the wait.”
“The wait?” I giggle, completely sated. “It took you like three minutes from when I walked in the door.”
“I’ve waited on this a lot longer than that.” He takes my hand and pulls me up. “Now make me a sandwich.”
“Go to hell,” I say, kissing his lips. “You make me a sandwich.”
He nips my bottom lip, making me yelp. “How about this? You go get cleaned up and I’ll stick the food in the microwave. Then you can get it out.”
“That’s a messed up compromise,” I laugh.
“But a compromise no less.” He smacks my butt as I head towards the bathroom. “You better hustle or I’ll haul your ass off to bed.”
Instead of hurrying, I pull my dress up to my waist and sway my hips back and forth as I walk across the room. “So not like th—Dominic!”
I don’t get the words out before I’m hauled over his shoulder, one hand cupping my ass as he holds me in place and carries me down the hall as promised.
Eight
Dominic
The paper-thin walls of the apartment make it clear Nate is home. The door squeaks open and latches, the locks twisting, before I hear him shuffle down the hallway. He’s shushing what I guess is a sleeping Ryder before the door to the guest room down the hall pulls closed.
Releasing a breath, I try to close my eyes but they pop open again. Sleep isn’t my friend on a good night. I’ve battled with insomnia my entire life. I can remember lying in bed and listening to my parents fight it out upstairs above me. The walls would shake before a thud would hit the ceiling. I’d squeeze my eyes and hope my dad wasn’t hurting my mom.
>
Of course he was. Her eye would be black, sometimes her lip cut, in the morning. She’d make up some bullshit excuse and pour our cereal and laugh it off, a cigarette dangling from her cracked lips.
The older I got, the more often it happened. I’d wait up and listen, wondering if that would be the night hell would break loose and he’d end up killing her. I’d go to bed with a knot in my gut, and by the time the sun came up, I was just drifting off to sleep.
It’s a habit I can’t break. When the sun goes down, those demons wake up and begin their ritual of torturing me with all the bad that can happen … and all the bad I’ve done.
“Shh …” I whisper to Camilla as she stirs next to me.
The shower kicks on, the pipes squalling in the walls, and I squeeze her tighter. My palm sinks in her curves, her breath hitching as I run my hand down her side, over her hip, and onto her thigh. She squirms closer, her head resting on the spot where my arm meets my shoulder with a little contented sigh.
Watching her asleep next to me puts thoughts in my head—crazy, unwarranted ideas that I have zero business toying with. The longer this little charade goes on between us, the harder it is to separate fantasy from reality.
Fantasy is this. Reality is what tomorrow morning will bring. She’ll go home and take a bath or go shopping and I’ll put in my eight hours, see if I can get some overtime, before putting in a few more at the bar.
Lying here in the darkness makes me think about coming home to a wife, falling asleep with her every night. When Cam cuddles up with me like I could defend her from the world, it fills me with the best feeling I’ve ever had. Like I matter to her. Like I’m capable of one thing that counts. Sometimes I don’t even try to go to sleep. I just hold her and watch her and think … and pretend this could be, and should be, real.
If she’d just fucking get this out of her system and move along, I could move on. But God knows I won’t be able to walk away from her.
“Why do you do this, Cam?” I whisper.
“Do what?”
I flinch, startled that she answered. “I thought you were asleep.”
The Landry Family Series: Part Two Page 27
